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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28656261">it will fall again</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/electricwaves/pseuds/electricwaves'>electricwaves</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst and Feels, Angst and Tragedy, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Dream Smp, Dream Team SMP - Freeform, Dream Team SMP Spoilers, Dreamon, Gen, I am so tired, Implied Dreamon, Implied Reincarnation, Major Character Injury, Major character death - Freeform, Morally Ambiguous Character, Platonic Relationships, Post-Canon, They're Best Friends Ok, but i'm not really that sorry, cried while writing this, dream team, fictional characters, i am so sorry for the angst</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 03:28:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,969</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28656261</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/electricwaves/pseuds/electricwaves</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>George can't fall asleep, so he goes on a walk to see the destruction of yesterday's war, finding himself at the very top of the gaping hole that was once L'Manberg.</p><p>A lump that's a familiar shade of green at the very center of the pit catches his eye.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clay | Dream &amp; GeorgeNotFound &amp; Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream &amp; GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream &amp; Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound &amp; Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>133</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>it will fall again</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sleep was something that George normally had no problem with. It was a running joke with just about everyone that he always slept through important events on the SMP. Lately, however, getting a good night’s rest had become elusive. Just about every time he felt himself submerging into unconsciousness’ silent waters, an electric whisper would jolt him awake, and he could never discern what exactly it was mumbling about. </p><p> </p><p>He didn’t know why he wasn’t able to stop shuffling underneath his cobalt sheets, or staring at his empty bedroom ceiling save for the three glow-in-the-dark stars that he, Sapnap, and Dream had made out of glowstone all those days ago, (before everything in the SMP grew complicated), or getting up to go pee before realizing he didn’t actually need to pee, or why he didn’t end up really sleeping at all. It was during those numerous restless times that George cherished his goggles, their dark lenses easily disguising the murky bags weighing down his eyes. If anybody ever noticed just how exhausted he looked, he’d definitely get asked uncomfortable questions and poked fun at, or even worse, babied. </p><p> </p><p>Sighing as he sat up in bed for what seemed to be the umpteenth time that night, George remembered being told that going on walks helped with not being able to sleep. <em> Moving about must surely make me tired, </em> he reasoned. He couldn’t quite recall where the tidbit of advice had come from, just that it was one of the Sleepy Boys group who’d said it. <em> Probably Phil, </em> he noted with a half shrug. <em> He knows basically everything.  </em></p><p> </p><p>Slipping on nothing but a pair of cerulean pajamas, leather boots, and his trusty goggles, George set out across the Prime Path—or at least, what was left of it—and made his way to the remnants of L’Manberg. </p><p> </p><p><em> Wow. </em> </p><p> </p><p>Just as expected, it was horrible. </p><p> </p><p>George had very purposefully chosen to not be a part of the bombing yesterday. He didn’t like the conflict wearing down his bones. He didn’t like seeing the once-lively people of the SMP turn into hollow shells of themselves, their square shoulders worn down into slumps and fiery gazes roaring with less parts cheer and more parts hate, their shimmering armor becoming decorated with the aftermath of war, planes of precious metals covered head-to-toe with cracks and dents and faded scarlet splatters. It was harrowing to see what war did to the hearts of people.</p><p> </p><p>War, to put it simply, wasn’t his cup of tea. It never would be. He just wanted peace at this point. He didn’t really care much for ‘this territory’ or ‘that nation’ anymore. Sapnap had brought him to the Community House just before they went to bed, and George... Well, George had never seen his friend so broken before. The floors of the maimed house were now salted with Sapnap’s tears. Happy memories of the Dream Team play-fighting outside or inside the Community House instead of doing their assigned jobs began to feel tainted by the clashing of spiteful words and blades that still echoed within its now-decimated walls.</p><p> </p><p>L’Manberg was no different.</p><p> </p><p>The only part of L’Manberg that’d managed to survive were the floating lanterns riddled throughout the cold air, their faint auras only an illusion of golden hope sewn into the sky, inky and thick with ash. George’s dark goggles shined with the reflection of their flickering flames before turning dim as he dipped his chin and took in the gaping hole before him. </p><p> </p><p>George had never felt so small in his entire life. One wrong move, and he’d have to be quick about pulling out his water or an ender pearl, or face losing a life. To be fair, it wouldn’t be a Canon death, but Canon or not, dying still hurt. He took a step forward. The closer he stood at the edge, the quicker his chest rose and fell, the darkness magnetizing yet polarizing, and George wanted so badly—if just for a split second—to leap off of the grass and become swallowed whole by its nothingness. </p><p> </p><p>He didn’t know if it was the time of the night manifesting his worst thoughts, all he knew was he felt like a god staring down into an inexplicable abyss, half-expecting hands to burst from the scorched earth and reveal justice-seeking spectres. George blinked, his gaze catching on some kind of mass situated right at the core of the large hollow. It was moving, just barely, but it was. He gulped. Did he somehow manage to make his thoughts come true? Surely not—? </p><p> </p><p>He blinked again.<em> Oh.  </em></p><p> </p><p>Although George was incapable of properly seeing colors, he could recognize that particular shade of green universes away. </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>George’s pearl landed a few feet beside Dream, who was lying face down and away from him. He was almost sure his heart was going to gallop right through his chest. The weather on the SMP was almost always perfect, day or night, but the shiver that left goosebumps in its wake raised the hairs on George’s neck. “Dream?” He said, wincing at the way his voice cracked. </p><p> </p><p>“George…” Dream’s voice was nothing but a whimpery croak, muffled by the dirt that was probably near, if not <em> inside </em>, his mouth. George could tell that he was trying to move by the way his shoulders oscillated, but he didn’t budge a centimeter.</p><p>  </p><p>“Dream?” he parroted, crouching right in front of his friend—was he his friend?—noticing that the dirt around Dream was darker than the rest. He scrambled back a few inches. The darkness was blood. His jaw clenched. “Why are you just lying here, bleeding to death? Who put you down here?” </p><p> </p><p>Dream shook his head. “I jumped.”</p><p> </p><p>“You—” George glanced up, “you <em> what </em>?” </p><p> </p><p>“You heard me,” he said. "Don't make me repeat myself." </p><p> </p><p>“Fine.” George held out his left palm, summoning a torch from his inventory and grimacing at the sudden intrusion of light before planting it in the ground near his feet. His hardened look of <em> Why? Why the hell did you do that? </em>softened at the full sight of Dream. His mask had spiderwebs upon spiderwebs of cracks, some shards of porcelain jabbing into Dream’s face, others into the earth, most of them still stubbornly attached to each other. Only one of his eyes and part of his nose and mouth were visible, all of which were bloodied and bruised. His lime sweatshirt looked to be brown and red—those two colors were much too similar to George—parts of it messily torn, looking as if some wild animal, or probably Dream himself, had furiously clawed at it. </p><p> </p><p>“Do you like what you see?” </p><p> </p><p>The strained joke was lost on ears that reddened with anger. George could not even begin to explain the fury that set his veins alight. He honestly didn’t even know who it was directed towards. “Why? Why did you jump?” Silence suffocated the air for a few good moments, but George had time. He had so much time.</p><p> </p><p>Dream tried to raise his hands before letting out a broken sound that was halfway between a sigh and sob, his dirtied fingers falling back at his sides. “I can’t do it anymore, George. I can’t.”</p><p> </p><p>“Can’t what?” George asked, staggering closer so he could hear Dream better. There was something in his gut that told him he wouldn’t be able to hear him after. <em> After what? </em> he wondered. There was no perceivable answer. <em> Just after. </em></p><p> </p><p>“The mask,” Dream said, volume increasing with each word, breaths coming in and out like rapidfire, “It needs to come off, why won’t it come off? I thought—I thought that if I jumped, it would break, but I only ended up pushing it in deeper and it hurts and everything <em> hurts </em>, George!” He ducked his head and tried to curl into himself. “George, you don’t understand. The mask, it makes me do things. It makes me feel things, George.” </p><p> </p><p>“W-What? I don’t understand. I’ve seen you with it off.”</p><p> </p><p>“When was the last time you did?”</p><p> </p><p>“It was... It was on that morning, with you and me and Sapnap. We all walked towards the top of the hill. You told me everything the light touched would be mine, that my time would rise when yours fell.” George’s hand reached for Dream’s shoulder, floating for a few hesitant heartbeats until it landed firmly on the stale fabric. He already knew what it felt like soft, anyway. “Sapnap’s eyes were bright in the sun. Yours were too.” George managed a small smile. He hoped Dream could see it.</p><p> </p><p>Dream could see it all. He could see George’s lips curl into an expression he favored far more than the intense frown he’d been giving earlier. It almost made him smile, too. “Yes,” Dream breathed out. “That was before—before it all went to shit. My last few moments of true clarity. I don’t think I can do this anymore.”</p><p> </p><p>“What does that even mean?” George’s goggles were starting to fog up. Was it from his tears? Or from the sudden cold? He pushed them onto his forehead. Dream looked much worse without the black tint. “What does that mean, Dream?” He was afraid he already knew the answer. </p><p> </p><p>“My time is up, George.”</p><p> </p><p>George went back to frowning again, more tears threatening to spill from his earthly stygian eyes, just as entrancingly terrifying as the pit they laid in. “I was supposed to hate you, you know. You said you didn’t care about anything. You took my throne away from me. I didn't even recognize you.” </p><p> </p><p>“I know, George. I know. I’m sorry.” Dream’s tone glittered with enough regret and genuinity to last eternities. George held the apology close, wrapping it around his pounding heart, wanting to savor it even if he’d heal sometime in the future. Gasping for air, Dream mustered up a good amount of his energy and angled himself to face slightly away from the dirt. Nearly all of his bones were broken except for his hip, spine, collarbones, and a few of his ribs. He let out a sharp breath. He hated being weak. But if he was a tyrant when he was strong, then maybe being defenseless wasn't so bad. “It hurts, George.” </p><p> </p><p>George scrambled to sit closer to his friend, wrapping his arms around the other’s hip in the strangest hug ever, careful to notice when Dream winced at his movements. He didn’t stop tugging at Dream until his blond head rested in his lap. The memory of Dream falling asleep right on top of George’s legs as Sapnap talked their ears off about a new game he’d just started playing flashed behind his eyelids. He ran a few cautious fingers through mud-caked hair. “It’ll be ok, Dream.” <em> It won’t, you know? But it will be, eventually. Maybe. </em></p><p> </p><p>Dream did end up smiling at that. “Can you send a Whisper to Sapnap? I want him to be here before I—”</p><p> </p><p>“—On it,” George interjected. He didn’t stop combing through Dream’s hair. It was soothing for the both of them. Sighing, George fluttered his eyes shut and imagined Sapnap’s face. He imagined it smiling, laughing, screaming, crying, sleeping, and eating obnoxiously. He conjured up the image of his white bandana flowing in the wind. He thought of Sapnap decked out in sparkling netherite armor, gaze aflame and hands steady. He kept on imagining and imagining until the connection finally clicked into place. “Sapnap,” he murmured, “it’s George. Please wake up and come to the bottom of the pit where L’Manberg used to be. Dream is here, and I’m with him. He jumped, Sapnap. He’s going to... He said he wants you to be here for one last time.” Once George felt his words ripple into a place beyond his own thoughts, his eyes blinked wide open. He fervently swiped at his face with the edge of his sleeve. <em> Sapnap, </em> he thought. <em> I hope you know that I share some of your pain. </em></p><p> </p><p>“Thank you, George.” Dream’s battered lips couldn’t move too much without aching, but George saw the cheeky grin in them anyway, and he heard the way gratitude danced on the edges of Dream’s voice. </p><p> </p><p>George laced their fingers together as carefully as he could. “We’re best friends, yeah? It’s the three of us to the end. Always.”</p><p> </p><p>“Always,” Dream echoed. He squeezed George’s hand. George squeezed back. The neverending silence that Dream had trapped himself into earlier became filled with nostalgic chatter and soft wheezes, the L’Manbergian soil watered with even more tears, the floating lanterns above them glowing just a bit brighter. Somewhere a few blocks away was Sapnap, who had immediately woken up and rushed out of his home, the oak door ripped off its hinges. </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Arson was not something Sapnap usually committed as much as he would’ve liked to, and as soon as his boots hit the ground next to George and Dream, an array of fiery words that could’ve burnt down an entire forest was just dying to release from his tongue. He wanted to tell Dream off, to scream and cry at him, to bang his fists onto that stupid green hoodie, to stomp on his dumb sneakers, but the anger that had riled up simmered down into a deep, pulsating melancholy as soon as he’d stared into one gleaming eye, one that peeked through a shattered mask. </p><p> </p><p>“Dream,” he choked out, eyes flaring with bittersweet stings instead of ones of fury. With a deep inhale, he staggered towards his friends and took his place next to George, all three of them working together so that Dream could be positioned comfortably in both of their laps. <em> Just like old times.  </em></p><p> </p><p>“Sapnap. I’m really happy you’re here.” Dream tried lurching out his arm, but only a few of his fingers ended up twitching. George knew what he wanted, offering their intertwined hands to Sapnap, whose palms wrapped around theirs moments later. As always, his hands were warm.</p><p> </p><p>“I am too,” Sapnap said, his boisterous voice eerily quiet. “I was about to tell you off. I thought I hated you. Why did you do it?” He wiped at his face with his shoulder. <em> Maybe a part of me still does. </em>As much as Sapnap wanted to let go of his temper, he wanted to stay quiet and enjoy those few precious seconds much more. Dream was his friend. He always would be. They’d almost always been there for each other. Ever since they were kids. Sapnap blinked, feeling the collar of his shirt dampen. <em>This isn't fair.</em></p><p> </p><p>“I wouldn’t blame you if you did hate me.” Dream’s sigh quivered, “I just wanted to say sorry. To do one thing while I had some kind of a grip on myself, I just wanted to get rid of the mask. I thought that if I jumped and fell practically face-first, it’d break. It makes me do things, guys. I hear things, like an array of voices... I can’t understand them sometimes.” </p><p> </p><p>“Like Technoblade,” George said. </p><p> </p><p>“Like him, yeah. You guys don’t have to believe me, trust me, you really don’t, but <em> please </em> , please just know that I am so sorry. For everything.” Dream had so much he wanted to say, but he just—he just <em> couldn’t </em>. He hoped that every single apology he owed to Sapnap and George was noticeable through the way he was staring desperately at them, trying not to blink so he could burn the images of their faces into his retinas forever.</p><p> </p><p>Sapnap rested his forehead against George’s shoulder, “I see... I could never really hate you, Dream. Never.” His mouth twisted into a jaded grin. “I’m sorry, too. I’m sorry we didn’t get more time to say goodbye. To start things over.”</p><p> </p><p>Dream’s eye crinkled, glinting with relief as he felt the final stone lodged at the back of his throat finally release. He knew he wouldn’t have much time left. He looked at George. At Sapnap. At the two of them glancing between each other. “I’ll be back, boys. Maybe I’ll remember, maybe I won’t. But when it comes to Canon lives, I have more than you know. We can start over again. The ritual, guys. The Dreamon ritual.”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you, now?” George wasn’t sure if Dream was just saying that to make them feel better, because his sincerity made it sound true, but Dream was always a good liar, even now, when he was barely making any sense. <em> What ritual? </em>he mouthed at Sapnap, who only gave a lame shrug. </p><p> </p><p>“We’re going to miss you, Dream.” Sapnap tightened his grip around their fingers. “<em> I’m </em> going to miss you. I love you.”</p><p> </p><p>George nodded, fighting back a heaving sob. “I’m so sorry, Dream. I’ll see you soon, okay? I love you. I’m sorry I don’t say it more.” </p><p> </p><p>“You will see me again, you will,” he answered, voice small, but persistent as always. Dream relaxed against their laps, his grip loosening to the tiniest of degrees. He drew a deep breath, feeling the crisp night air that still held the barest tang of fire flood into his lungs and fuel his veins, making every ache and every crack painfully apparent. “I love you two; I love you, I love you. There’s so much I have to say, so much I need and want to tell you, but it’s too late now. Hopefully I remember.” </p><p> </p><p>George’s breath hitched. “Remember what, Dream?” </p><p> </p><p>His question fell on deaf ears. Dream’s chest rose—and never fell.</p><p> </p><p>George watched as Sapnap’s hands let go of his own, opting to grab onto his shoulders instead, pulling him away from Dream, away and away and away and away—</p><p> </p><p>The black hole that was once L’Manberg suffered from even more screams of loss and blistering tears that night. </p><p><br/>
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